Do you remember?
by EriksQueen
Summary: There were things, as he previously reflected, that you could never really leave behind no matter how hard you tried… and for England it would always be that idiotic Spaniard sat across from him, cheery smile supporting a fiery Italian on his lap.


_Italics _based around a RP between myself and a friend on DeviantArt, set around the Anglo-Spanish War [1625 -1630]

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction.

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The world meeting had been delayed, not that anyone had expected more with all there so called 'amazing' organisation skills.

They sat in the hotels sitting room though the other guests had long since vacated as the nations all crowded in. England took up one of the seats, picking up one of the newspaper on the table and letting his eyes scan over the twisty letters… he should have known better than to think it would be in English.

All he had wanted was a distraction but he gave a sigh instead as a sign of silent defeat, placing the paper back down with an anguished look. "It's fine…" He reassured himself as he caught side glances, rubbing his temples with semi-closed eyes.

There were things, as he had reflected beforehand, that you could never really leave behind no matter how many therapy sessions you went through or how many lives you took – or in England's case, how many times you took it out on a certain neighbouring Frenchman or almost ranted to your idiot American son into a coma.

There was always going to be the one in the way, the self-limiting and for him… His eyes trailed up to the Spaniard sat in the opposite chair and the hot-headed Italian sat awkwardly on his lap …it would always be that idiotic Spain.

The meeting, like everyone had expected, had been tension filled, only just bearable. He couldn't help the bubbling hatred with each glance. The ending of the meeting had barely been uttered before he'd collected his things and made his way out, keeping his eyes to the floor.

"Where are you going in such a rush Britain?" A French tongue shouted at him. For the first time he could remember, he didn't turn around.

Laying back in the hotel room, another irritated sigh pushed its way from his lips as he shielded himself from the light that emitted from the lamp by his side by placing his reading material over his eyes. Thoughts plagued his head, dampening the happy memories that he's brought forward to make a restful sleep in the least bit possible.

Before he knew anything had changed, he found himself stood in a familiar room. The scene was frayed around the edges but it was easily something he could overlook.

_"I am a conqueror of the New World ... I will not stay silent for long you English pig!"_

England spun around just in time to see Spain's body stiffen as knife danced out of the pirates coat and panic struck his chest. He recognised to scene all too well, the furnishings on the walls and even the dark glare in the other eyes, all things seemed so trivial now he looked on in fear of the Spanish life.

_He laughed, the knife carried in dancing down the others jaw lightly and mockingly. The control made him giddy; there was no other way to put it. "…and what more to show for it but a scarred back?"__  
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"How do you know what my back looks like, Inglaterra? Been lurking have we?" Spain had turned his nose up at the laugh and glared off at something completely irrelevant. Mumbling under his breath in Spanish, he took a quick glance back. "It is all you're good at after all; pirate, delinquent."__  
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"I was the one who put them there. Surely you'd remember..." The knife twisted against his neck and he shivered violently against the metal, trying to uphold his cocky smile. "...our little talk, our little talks after your first truly pitiful attempt to invade. Remember your little fleet?"__  
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"I-It was centuries ago!" _

Stood back watching made him want to break, he could feel disgust rising in his gullet as _his_nails ran down Spain's back and his winced away, recalling the feeling of his fingers over the shallow indents he knew only a nation after so long could find painful.

Looking away he say another figure shift in the corner of another room, it changed around him as if it were a scene on the stage but his efforts to shield himself from the pain that he had caused Spain was, as it seemed, in vain. He faced the same as before.

_Spain panted heavily, wriggling to try and escape the knife that pressed against his chest. It cut through the fabric so easily and made England giggle like a little girl as he watched the blood-spot spread through his shirt. "P-Por favor… you might hit something!"__  
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"Like I would be that careless!" He hissed in excitement, running the blooded blade over Spain's cheek with his eyes glinting darkly. "Wouldn't want to get your dirty whore blood all over my nice new ship now, would I?" __  
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"W-Whore…" It was barely a mumble back but one which was replies with an outrageous laugh. England cupped the Spanish cheek in his pale and stained hand, gripping his jaw._

His eyes flittered open and his teeth ground together against the pillow with an angry growl. Shaking his head to try and clear it. Sometimes he hated his mind more than anything. Yes, sometimes it could be his greatest asset but on morning were he would lie up with images of a sunny nation on his mind, he truly loathed it.

The sun doused his hotel room; it gave the air an eerie yet mystic glow. A car alarm was going off in the distance… a load American voice called him from the corridor outside. The meeting was only over an hour away and it made him cringe. All he wanted to do was sleep and dream…

"How cliché." England mumbled, forcing his head into the pillow, ignoring the load knocking at his door.

There was always something in there kind of romance that nobody would understand, yet he guessed it was the same thing that made Spain hate him today. Meetings had gone by with much more irritation and inner torment. He closed his eyes against his pillow and took in a deep breath. A decent night sleep wasn't too much to ask for, surely! Since the beginning of the month he hadn't had a good one…

He began to doze, breath becoming heavier as he drifted into his distant memories.

_Spain leant with his back to his chest and a laugh shook through them, England's arm slung over his shoulder like they were friends but his shoulder supported the others head like they were lovers. They spoke, laughed together, happiness radiated off of them both bright enough to light the cabin. The bruises covering the Spaniard began to fade and England took one of Spain's hands in his own.__  
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"Why did Inglaterra do all those things to España when he was first caught?" The soft Spanish voice rang out.__  
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His Captain smiled devilishly, kissing the top of his head making his actions disjointed from the original intent that was clear in his smile. "I don't really know." Slowly it slipped, replaced by a flutter of guilt. "I just, I wanted you so badly, wanted you to need me and... l-love me. I didn't think I could have that... not with you." _

He watched the seen in front of him much like the other night, only now he wasn't crying and begging to leave; he watched with a smile on his face and a new-found inspiration in him. He could have confessed then over and over, the idea that he couldn't now for whatever reason was truly ridiculous.

_His hand was squeezed lightly by Spain and a smile brightened, his cheeks flushed. "Inglaterra doesn't have to worry about that anymore…" The Spaniard took England's other hand, kissing his knuckles innocently as he gazed into his half-lidded eyes. "España will always need you and love you..."__  
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"Are you telling me I am the only one who can render you completely powerless?" His fingers grazed his cheek. "I can see it in your eyes. You used to scream for me to get off but… I could see you never wanted me to stop. It made me guilty; I wanted you to tell me, so I truly knew. I was wrong."__  
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Another laugh, Spain nuzzled himself into England's hand. "Yes but in a way you were right… I loved how you acted like a lover when you hurt me, how you looked like an Angel when you were done." _

England gave a smile to reflect the pirate version of him as Spain replied. He could feel an all too familiar rising in his chest, one that had been dormant since the days he had joined Spain on his cabin floor.

_"There's a reason for that Spain." _

There as a load bang, load enough to jolt him but not to snap him out of the dream as he jumped around. The other two were gone and Spain stormed into the cabin, himself slowly following behind.

_"You are going home Conquistador! I've already set a course!"__  
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The Spaniard laughed, leaning against the desk. "No amor, you are mistaken." Slowly he took the hat off of England's head and placed it on his own. "I'm staying with you… forever. We can sail the seas and oceans and discover new lands!" His smile shone bright, even for him. "Then… nobody can tell us what to do, who to like and who to love."__  
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"I love your optimism… been reading many of those stupid French fairy-tales, have you?" He looked like he was battling against his better judgement, a soft sigh on his lips as he looked away and closed his eyes. He didn't even believe his own words.__  
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Spain's eyes glistened with fresh tears, the smile still beaming. "Please amor." He held out his hand. "Take a chance…"__  
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The pirate got down on his knees and wrapped his arms round the back of Spain's legs, nodding softly. "Forever Captain…"_

Once he awoke, he laid back, staring up at the canopy of sheets above him and lets a sigh sound out quietly in the room. He attempted to ignore the noise from the American outside of the room but without successes he stood up and faced his reflection in the mirror.

"You have to tell him today… You hear me?" His hands slammed down onto the mahogany top, glaring at his reflection sternly. "Today!"

From where he stood it was all so ridiculous, feeling like he'd been thrown into some angsty teenage romance. He couldn't tell if it was there position or the mural hatred had spun into something much more dangerous. At that thought, his grip tightened around Spain's wrists.

He couldn't pretend to be confused because everything had been so clear, he couldn't pretend it had been an accident; he just never claimed to be proud either way. Watching the Spaniard beneath him, he froze. It had gone so quickly it was as blurry as his dreams.

The teacup in his hand had trembling against the saucer, making a dreadful racket; placing them down he'd snapped out of his vicious daydream, or so he thought.

Gripping his hair lightly with his fingers, he cleared his thoughts for the last time. He took another step towards the Spanish man, his eyes fluttered shut in thought but shot open not a second after.

"What do you want Eyebrows?" Italian accent, tanned skin, dark hair and a stupid curl of easy manipulation sticking out of his particularly hot head – God how he hated him! Romano jumped up and Spain's face whose face had been leaning into the hollow of his neck, face-planted the cushions beneath him with a little, adorable groan.

"My fight's not with you, insufferable little coward. I need a word with…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Imperio España."

Spain stood up, paling as he did so. "You gave me up long ago _Captain_." His voice took a harsh turn, eyes narrowing, lips curled into a dangerous scowl. "I have nothing to say."

The British nation fought against everything in him to stay put, ceasing the trembles in his hands by focusing on keeping his knees from shaking in panic. "But I have plenty."

Glancing at the door, Spain joined in a sigh and gave an abrupt nod. "Only so I have something to gossip to France about later…"

There wasn't enough time between walking through the door to shoving the Spaniard wrapped around his waist into the corridor wall; lips smashed together violently, teeth grazed the soft flesh of the others neck and hands gripped at clothes and hair in a needy and desperate way.

England took a deep breath, practically panting as he strived to get air in his lungs, brushing back the Spanish man's sweaty locks with the back of his trembling hand "You belong with me… Spain not with him, w-"

He was cut off by another sharp kiss, the legs around his hips clenched in a weak warning. It again brought a chuckle, laughing lightly against the others lips. It was cliché, like a badly written love scene.

"What are you laughing at puta?" Spain glared, the smile swept off his face unexpectedly as he landed on his back, the gentleman above him with a hand resting on his chest.

Another laugh and a devilish smile followed as response, melting him into the floor noticeable. "Please… this isn't what I want." England muttered back with desperation in his voice, sliding a hand up the other chest to roughly stroke his neck. "You belong with me, only me… not him. Spain."

Another whimper came from the man below him as he stared up; tear teetering in his eyes once again and head lolled to the side in pleasure. "T-Te echo de menos… Inglaterra."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it…"

Spain's heart had caught in his throat and he stared up like he'd just been dropped into the moment. With a scowl he replied. "You gave me up long ago! Do you remember that?"

It struck England and hard, feeling like he'd taken a blow to the chest he clutched at his jacket and held onto the hand that was already there. "I had no choice, times were changing around us!"

"Then you should have let then change around us."

There was an unsettling pause between then, they both knew it was true and England couldn't deny it. He watched Spain for a moment, brushing back his hair with a pained smile. "I wish I could go back."

_"What do my eyes say when we fight?"_A faint blush prickled the Spanish cheeks with a shy smile and his hand stroked down England arm, lacing their fingers.

_"They show me how much fight you hold back just so you can lose to me. They showed me how you really feel when I run my blade over you..."_

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Thanks for reading! x


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